


Spain's Revenge, England's Glory

by shoesoftennis



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hetalia Pirates, M/M, Yaoi Sooner Or Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:58:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4084030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoesoftennis/pseuds/shoesoftennis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spain and England have at each other after the Anglo-Spanish War. The Eurotrash has come out to play again. (I'm really bad at summaries... Anyway, characters shall be added as they appear. And the reason this is rated Mature is because of the colorful language.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spain's Revenge, England's Glory

_1609..._

A cannonball shredded past the exterior of the hold, splitting thankfully between two of Antonio's cannons. The Spanish pirate captain disappeared beneath the hatch on the main deck, shouting orders along the lines of "Hurry, you pigs!" and "I don't pay you to stand there fucking yourselves!"

The crew dutifully ignored Antonio Fernandez Carriedo and carried on bringing dented cannonballs to respective cannons. Booming ricocheted off the very ocean itself, rocking the two warring ships. Another projectile from the enemy ship whistled through another weak spot in the hold and caught two of the crew, crushing their skulls without much trouble. For a second, Antonio just blinked before shaking his head and climbing back up the ladder to main deck again.

He grabbed a plank and, in his rage, picked the whole thing up and plunked it between the two vessels. He drew his flintlock pistol and his sword, shooting once at a man who tried to derail the plank from the opposing deck. Antonio's feet, light as a cat's, dashed over the plank with precision unlike any man had ever seen. He swiped at the man he'd shot at, drawing a multi-barreled pistol after tossing the flintlock away and shooting the enemy in the head. His sword clanged with two others before he knew it, and he hissed angrily, shooting the last barrel of his pistol and tossing that away. Without much thought on it, he promised himself he'd pick them up after he won. And again, he drew another weapon from his belt and drove this into the man on his left's gut. He watched dagger glisten with crimson before twirling gracefully away from his other attacker and slinging a one-handed slash at them which the man parried with some difficulty.

Meanwhile, a third of Antonio's crew had begun to pick up their own weapons and follow their captain over for a hand-to-hand battle. The odds of their ship surviving seemed better if they took out the cannon-firing, English rats at the source.

While they did that, Spain hauled ass and stabbed his enemy through the softness of his thigh. He used his elbow to knock the man out cold and bared his teeth at the blonde who had called off the rest of his crew. Spain had vaguely wondered why this was so easy. "England!" he growled, drawing another jewel-encrusted dagger that would pair nicely with the blood-stained sword Antonio still held.  

England smirked, humming softly. A cannon suddenly rocked the ship underneath their feet, and England's mouth twitched into a frown before growing into a bigger, smugger smile. "Oh, so you finally got a hit, eh~?" he said, tipping his hat toward Antonio. "My hat goes to you, Spain~"

"You bastard!" Spain spat, his lips curling into a snarl. "I didn't even DO anything this time, and you start firing your damn cannons at me! Get your head out of your ass and QUIT MESSING WITH MY SHIPS! I get it, you won the fucking war, just leave me ALONE."

"Oh, Spain," England said, sauntering a few cocky steps toward the Spaniard, "you DID do something. You invaded me, and I'm not going to let that slide. I will sink every ship you get, and I won't stop until you've paid for that 'fucking war' in blood and gold."

By the time England finished speaking, Antonio's crew had made it over to Arthur's ship. Captain Arthur Kirkland gave them a hell-eating smirk and sicced his crew on them. "I want to defeat the Catholic myself!" he yelled as two men went after Antonio.

Spain drew his weapons when the two men went at him and then clenched them tighter when England spoke.

"You want to fight me, England?" Spain hissed, his green eyes flashing in merciless rage. "You know you'll lose. I'm stronger than you by far!"

"You USED to be, old chap~" Arthur Kirkland said, his voice mocking. He drew his own sword from its scabbard, and Spain caught sight of knife marks on a familiar-looking slit on the hilt of England's sword. Where the Tudor crest used to be.

Smirking, Spain cracked his neck. He pointed his sword viciously at England's chest. "Your Tudor era has come to an end~ Exactly what I wanted~" Spain said, his voice sweetly poisoned.

Over the din of the fight behind them, Arthur picked out Antonio's words. He gritted his teeth, wanting to spill the Spaniard's black blood onto the floor. "Look, you Spanish bastard, you're out of the loop. The Tudor era was dissolved six years ago!" Arthur shouted. He knew not to attack in anger, but he wanted to so SO bad. He wanted to see Antonio on the deck, begging and crying for mercy as he cut open Spain's stomach and pried his ribs away from his heart, breaking them from his spine. Shuddering in sadistic pleasure, he eyed Antonio's gut and nearly licked his lips. Cries of terror made his heart skip a beat; he was in love with all things dastardly and sick.

England attacked; Spain parried. Their actions left them both with their swords in the air, pushing back against the other's opposing force. Their teeth were both bared, and they looked like feral beasts locked in a fight for the new alpha of the pack. Sweat poured off both their foreheads. Spain wanted nothing more than to dive and rip Arthur's throat to shreds with his bare jaws, but that would leave a bad taste in his mouth and be considered cannibalism. He didn't want to eat anyone else, but the idea was very tempting, and he very nearly did it. Except Arthur gave him a nice kick to the groin and left him reeling back, knocking into one of his crew members.

Cackling, Arthur leaned over both men that sprawled on the ground. He pointed his sword tip right at Spain's navel, pressing against the skin there.

This was it.

He paid attention to nothing else, only the pressure he had on Spain's skin and shirt, and Spain's moans of pain. Oh, Lord, this was it! He could do what he had daydreamed for so long!

Suddenly, a cannonball rushed by, missing Arthur's face by an inch. He was blown back by the rush of air that came with the projectile, and his sword blew back with him. The cannonball smashed into the foremast, smattering splinters and chunks of wood everywhere. Rigging and sails collapsed, smashing the plank that had brought Antonio over to his near demise. But thankfully, when the dust cleared, and Spain jumped up, he saw another plank being lowered. Quickly, he grabbed the man he'd been laying on, hauling him up over his shoulder. Relief flooded into his mind, and he forgot all about Arthur and his English crew until Arthur shouted, "You dick! Wait until next time, you fucking bastard!!! I'll get you! I'm still going to make you PAY!!!"

Spain didn't even think about the wooden plank collapsing under him until long after he'd made it safely to the other side. By then, both sides had stopped firing, and Antonio immediately began to turn his ship away from England's. He rushed into a draft and yelled at his men to open all the sails.

A haze settled over Antonio's mind, and all he knew was run, run, RUN. He admitted it. England had won this time, but once he got more firepower, the twisted Englishman wouldn't be able to defeat him so easily again. He promised himself that. 'England won't beat me again,' he chanted silently in his head. He didn't even look back once he was sailing north, glad one of his crew members had thought to bring a cannon onto the main deck and sink England's foremast. That would set them back a while.

He didn't even hear Arthur screaming curses at him the entire time he set course for Spain.


End file.
